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9. Rolling Trucks



Rolling over desert sands

Steady there are dough-boy's hands.

Gliding past the silver sage

Caring naught for fame or wage;

Rolling trucks for Uncle Sam,

In his kit are bread and ham.

Slipping over moon-lit dunes

Humming low the old men's tunes.

Every moment plays the game,

Like an iron in a flame.

Rolling over desert sands,

Steady there are dough-boy's hands.